


swing, batta batta, swing

by bonkatomicpunch



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alcohol, Background Texas Toast, Blunt Trauma, Character Study, Eventual Romance, Flirting, M/M, Medic is oblivious, Mercs are super close to each other, Mute Pyro, Pyro Uses Sign Language, Quick-Fix, Semi-Serious, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character, Trans Scout, also scout is trans. he's a trans man in all my work, buckle in you're in for a long ride if people like this i Will keep updating it, if that bugs anyone i can ditch it for later chapters, ive had to change that tag like 3 times because i cant make up my damb mind lol, late night heart-to-hearts, rated M for language and also there's some frisky stuff in here. nothing Explicit but frisky, that's a fancy word for projection city babyyy, thats their ship name but thats also discussed i guess. get it. cuz scout has parent issues, the romance is slow burn. drunken shenanigans happen but the actual Love bit is slower, very gay, written in lowercase as a stylistic choice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-07-31 06:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20110843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonkatomicpunch/pseuds/bonkatomicpunch
Summary: scout and medic have an insightful conversation during the first day of a two week long furlough that blossoms into something more.





	1. swing and a miss

thump. thump. thump.

scout idly tosses his baseball against the worn base wall, periodically taking sips from his can of lukewarm bonk resting atop a bale of hay. he's leaning against the old splintered doorframe, taking potshots at a poorly drawn target he had doodled onto a plank of wood with marker months ago. it's a cool summer evening; the breeze feels nice in his hair, his cap and headset long since discarded so he could take in the pleasant quiet of nature. the sky is a swirl of pinks and blues, tinges of orange here and there. trees appear pure black in this light; it's a pretty okay view, despite hightower not particularly being the most exciting place to be stationed.

his comrades have taken up playing blackjack in the rec room inside, or catching up with their favorite shows on tv in the downtime. this the first day of one of their very few vacation periods, part of a two week long furlough they had been graciously granted for a reason that wasn't too clear; miss pauling was wishy-washy and vague as usual, but they'd be crazy to protest some well deserved time off. it's a moment of respite that doesn't come often to those in their line of work; most of them aren't particularly inclined to waste it on doing nothing of value.

that is, except for scout.

he certainly isn't accustomed to this much free time anymore. he used to have hours upon hours to do whatever he pleased, but most of it was spent playing baseball or doodling cars and zombies in his sketchpad.

alone.

when you run your mouth like a marathon all day, you tend to annoy people into not sticking around to ask you why you do it in the first place.

it wasn't a big deal, though. taking a breather and ingesting his daily dose of caffeine wasn't the worst thing in the world. he had excused himself from the rec room a couple hours back (much to pyro's chagrin, since they both enjoyed watching cartoons together on tv) and it was like nobody even knew he was out here. the old wood balcony was his safe haven in this moment, as it had been many times before. being alone ain't all bad; it gives him time to reflect. even he needs a moment of silence sometimes. being irritating is certainly a thankless job, although scout likes to think "charismatic" is a better word to describe him.

nobody tends to disturb him when he takes these moments of solace. they're infrequent and spread out enough that nobody bothers to check up on him. they probably just assume he's sleeping or something. he doesn't like causing anybody unnecessary stress, so he's thankful that no one is nosy enough to interrupt his sulking hour.

that is, until today.

thump. thump. thump.

_is that...footsteps?_ scout thinks, missing the bullseye he was intently aiming at, his ball hitting the back wall and bouncing limply to the ground. _who the hell...?_

suddenly, he recognizes it. the tell-tale click of polished, lace-up boots.

_medic?_ he thinks again, standing in place, wondering if his ears are deceiving him. the abandoned ball rolls aimlessly through the open arch of the doorframe, stopping at the tall man who enters the balcony's feet.

"scout?" a thick, german accent asks. "what are you doing out here?"

there, in the doorway, medic stands, dressed in his typical casual wear consisting of a beige vest, denim slacks and immaculate white button up with his trademark red tie in tow.

"i could ask you the same question, four eyes," he retorts, turning around to retrieve his lost baseball.

"no need to be rude, mein freund," medic says giddily, wandering over to the edge of the balcony to place his elbows on the railing. "i'm simply here to retrieve archimedes."

scout raises an eyebrow. "your _bird?_"

"ja, i forgot to close the infirmary windows again today. he likes to fly off and cause trouble while i'm working, and i simply don't have the time to check on him 24/7." medic begins removing his gloves, causing scout's eyebrow to shoot up even further, running the risk of flying off his face at this point.

scout grabs his ball and leans back against the doorframe. "_riiiiight._"

suddenly, without warning, medic puts two of his fingers into his mouth and starts to whistle. _loudly._ scout's startled by this, jumping a bit at the sudden noise. a look of confusion and a bit of fear is square on his face, but he's too curious to just slip back inside while the good doctor isn't looking.

he can see something distant in the pastel sky; a dot of white, with splashes of red on its breast. sure enough, down flits archimedes, the mischievous little dove perching directly on medic's forearm and nuzzling into his master's touch.

scout's eyes are blown wide open. "wow," he says, genuine amazement in his voice. "like a frickin' disney princess? holy crap, doc, that's friggin' sick. where the hell'd ya learn to do that?"

medic is taken aback by his compliment, seemingly shocked that anyone would be impressed by something so trivial to him. "oh, that?" he says, moving his arm for emphasis, archimedes' head staying completely still as his body is moved around. "i learned that little trick years ago. doves are fickle creatures, that's for sure! i had no idea what i was getting into when i stole that catering van way back when. this one sure does keep mein hands full, his brothers and sisters as well. troublemakers, all of them."

scout moves closer to him, standing beside him at the balcony's edge. "y'know, doc, i always wondered 'bout that," he inquires, reaching out a hand to pet archimedes and getting coos of appreciation in response. "did you seriously steal the frickin' _prime minister's_ catering van?"

medic laughs, that nasally, manic laugh he always belts out when someone says something even mildly funny. "oh, scout, you have no idea."

"that's why i'm askin', dummy."

"you never answered _my_ question, dummkopf," medic interrupts, archimedes getting fed up with scout's incessant poking and pecking at him in response. "what are you doing out here this late? shouldn't you be inside watching television or playing cards with the others? it isn't like you to be standing around outside by yourself." there's a tinge of worry to his tone, making this conversation all the more bizarre. "enlighten me."

"uhhh..." scout tries to think of an adequate excuse, his brain coming up empty. of all the things he most definitely was, a good liar was not one of them. "look, i'll be honest with ya, doc. i ain't inside with the others 'cause sometimes i like my peace and quiet, alright?" he takes another swing at the target, and misses again; something is visibly off. he's definitely not on his a game today.

medic frowns, his idle pets to archimedes' noggin stopping in their tracks. his shoulders leave their typical broad and proud stance, falling below his chest as if he's just heard terrible news; an odd reaction from someone usually so apathetic. medic could be serious or angry if the situation required it, of course, but scout has never actually seen him...what's the word...concerned?

"scout," he says, "is this where you've been all those times you up and went missing on us?"

scout's heart drops.

_someone noticed?_

he lets out a nervous scoff, grabbing his can of warm bonk and placing it to his lips for a sip. he hopes it masks his unsure look. "huh. never thought anybody noticed that." suddenly his face feels hot. "go figure."

"i have a keen eye for detail, as you probably know already," medic starts, using his 'scientific analysis' cadence. "i always keep count of where everyone is in case of an emergency. i have to, it's in my job description! so of course i would know if you weren't with the others or outside the base. i just never wanted to disturb you, i suppose. that, and i didn't exactly know where to look."

he places his arms back on the railing, scout now leaning over it as well with the small of his back to the wood. there's a personable silence between the two of them, no sound but archimedes' soft idle coos and the shuffling of feathers in the wind. they stay this way for a while, the faint noise of their teammates chattering inside not doing much to deter either one of them from staying. 

"_why?_" a voice eventually breaks the silence, quiet and sparse. "why _here?_ i am, as you put it, an 'old lunatic', so i have an excuse to brood by myself on the balcony," medic says, turning his head to look at scout. he just now notices that his hat is off.

"dunno," scout grumbles, taking another taste of his soda. "even cool guys like me need time to marinate. got a problem with that?" he hopes his insecurity isn't bleeding through in his words, but his tone says everything medic needs to know anyway.

"not at all. it is healthy, you know," he says, letting out an irritated huff. "it is quite easy to notice when the most obnoxious person on our team is suddenly absent."

scout rolls his eyes and playfully punches medic in the arm, barely making a dent due to their weight difference. "_tactful as always,_ doc," scout teases, spilling a little bit of his lukewarm drink onto the doctor's vest.

typically, medic would be furious, as he is not the kind of person to appreciate having his meticulously cleaned attire stained. but this time, for whatever reason, he's calm and collected. "i am serious, you know," he whispers, keeping his voice low as to not attract the attention of anyone inside. "if something is bothering you, i am no licensed therapist, but i am more than willing to lend an ear, mein freund."

scout's face is pure skepticism right now. medic? _genuine human connection?_ something's up here.

"are you aware that too much strain on the mind can impact combat performance?"

_there it is._

"ugh, _doc,_" groans scout, "i don't need you to sit here and listen to all my troubles. i ain't got time to sit around an' talk to you like you're my shrink or somethin'." he folds his arms impatiently around his chest, idly bouncing his leg to keep himself occupied. "don't you have anythin' better to do? experiment on people? put guts in jars? y'know. medical stuff."

medic gives him a blank look, his cold blue eyes continuing to drill holes right into scout's skull. if he knew anything about medic, it was that once he had his mind set on something he would never relent. _stubborn old fuck,_ scout thinks, chewing his lip. might as well...

"well," he groans again, hoping the agitation in his voice will somehow drive medic away, "if you wanna hear the story of my life, make yourself comfy 'cause it's a long and borin' one. not very excitin', i promise ya."

medic folds his hands and nods, one of his classic smug grins plastered firmly on his face.

in this moment, scout realizes something. he has at least a vague idea of what most of his colleagues are like, enough to call them all friends. family even, since they all live together and have their own share of emotional baggage. but medic? he never really bothered to talk to him much, aside from complaining about papercuts and asking for sleep medication every once in a while. the fact medic was sitting here, alone with him, ready and willing to listen to him ramble on for god knows long about his personal life even if it was for a utilitarian purpose was a little past weird.

was it bad to say he wasn't opposed to it, though?

for someone who talked a lot, he never really opened up to anyone like this before. there was heavy that one time, but that was more on impulse than anything else.

"alright, so," he starts, letting out a long, defeated sigh. "when i was a kid, i grew up with no dad. fuckin' blew," he says, the sudden language surprising medic somewhat. "an' i...i grew up with pretty much no mom either."

"really?" medic asks, not intending to interrupt but doing so involuntarily. his impulse control has seen better days.

scout lets out a nervous hum, his eyes darting to his feet. "yeah. i grew up with a lotta brothers. it's a lot for just one lady to deal with, especially if you were an annoying little twerp like i was, haha. ma really liked to spend time with my oldest brothers, the strong tall ones who played football. not me, oh ho, _hell no_, not me. i was scrawny as shit. loved her to pieces, still do, but it always felt like she...didn't really love me back."

medic's face went from joyful analysis to genuine sympathy real fast.

"guess i'm loud," scout continues, swishing his mostly empty can of bonk around to hear the contents inside slosh against the metal container, "'cause i had to be. if i didn't wanna get trampled by my brothers, i had to yell 'n scream. had to do it if i wanted ma to see me, even if she never did. she doesn't even respond to my postcards anymore." he lets out a clearly pained chuckle. "what a joke."

"scout..."

"heh. thankfully i ain't, uh, like that anymore. i'm 100% pure charm 'n charisma, baby," scout laughs nervously, suddenly acutely aware of how much info he blabbed to the weird old german guy who would probably sell his kidneys on the black market for a 20. "oh, i think i hear pyro inside callin' for me, what's that buddy? new star trek? i'll be right there," he tries to escape the conversation, his sneakers squeaking against the splintered old wood of the balcony, but he's stopped in his tracks by a firm hand with an iron grip on his shirt.

medic spins him around effortlessly to make eye contact. "no getting out of this one, dummkopf," medic spits, clearly agitated at scout for trying to just walk off after saying something like that. "you've been dealing with all this and you never even bothered to tell anyone?" medic's face has a look of utmost urgency on it, strong brows furrowed in a mixture of anger and concern.

"look, i'm sorry, alright? you were the one that goaded me into tellin' ya about this, doc, now lemme go-"

medic removes his glasses, placing them delicately on a pile of crates stacked neatly nearby. "scout," he utters again, quieter this time, placing his other hand on scout's shoulder. the younger man's eyes are as wide as saucers, dirty blonde hair scuffed up from the wind.

medic's shoulders drop again and he lets out a sigh. "misery is quite comfortable," he says, maintaining eye contact with scout. "that is why many choose to suffer alone. i would know. you probably think of me as the senile old german man who sits in the lab all day with his birds and cackles maniacally at nothing." scout giggles a bit at that last part, since it is kind of true. "I'M SERIOUS," medic utters again, rolling his eyes at scout's juvenile sense of humor.

although perhaps not the best moment to make such an observation, scout realizes he's never actually seen medic with his glasses off before, nonetheless seen him at all this up close and personal. his jawline is sharp enough to cut through steel and he seems to have eerily perfect teeth. the little curl that seemed to always get in his face is plastered on his forehead as always, misplaced slightly due to the wind. his eyes are like dry ice, cold yet warm, fixed right on him and unwavering. scout hopes to god that he's farsighted and can't see the pink creeping across his cheeks.

"sorry, doc. i, uh, appreciate the pep talk," scout laughs, pushing at medic's chest to get him to let go. it works, and medic releases him, sighing deeply and retrieving his spectacles from the crate he set them down on. "for real, i do. we should, uhh...do this more often?"

medic gives him a look of pure confusion.

"what?" he says, whistling to call back archimedes who had long since flown off to who knows where as they had their discussion.

oh, right, oblivious. scout clears his throat. "uhh, y'know," he starts, eyes darting everywhere so as not to make contact with medic's. "like, to...hang out? talk, maybe?" he rubs his arm sheepishly, expecting rejection. why the hell would medic bother hanging around some little punk at least ten years his junior, especially one who just unloaded his emotional baggage onto him as if he was airport security? 

surprisingly, he perks up at that. "discuss life's many tragedies? i would love to," medic giggles, slightly less maniacal this time, "it would be my pleasure."

"it's a date, then," scout says, unaware of just how forward that sounds in the here and now. medic is, again, pretty oblivious so he hopes it'll sail right over his head. "same time, same place. bring beer."

"you_ know_ engineer doesn't like it when you drink, dummkopf. says you tend to break things." medic gives him a wink. "but because you've been such good company today, i'll see what i can do, ja?"

"sweet. see ya later, doc," scout says, collecting his ball and cap and heading back inside. he can hear the faint notes of the star trek opening, plus his favorite pyromaniac mumbling his name in the distance. he'd be back tomorrow, that's for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhh boy here we go. if people like this, i'll keep going! just a test run for now. there is not enough for this ship so i decided to make some myself lmao. leave some feedback if you've got any! i'd love to hear whatcha think <3
> 
> edit: changed up some stuff so sentences flow better and corrected some typos !


	2. struck out

the next morning, scout wakes with a tired groan, covering his half lidded eyes with one hand to block out the sudden bright intrusion of his overhead light.

he blinks a couple times before glancing over to the lightswitch, a tall, broad chested figure he can't quite make out looming beside it. "what the hell, man..." his tired voice mumbles, grabbing the blanket and hoisting it well over his head to shield himself from the blinding brightness.

"rise and shine, schweinhund," the familiar german accent gives his identity away, "remember our plans for later. do not be late!" even through his blurry vision scout can see that medic is smiling, one of his classic smug and wicked grins. there's a mug of hot coffee in his other hand, the scent wafting towards scout's general direction. he likes it black; go figure.

scout sits up, resting his back against his headboard. he rubs the sleep out of his eyes, finally focusing and able to make out more than just shapes and colors. "didja really have to wake me up at-" he glances at the clock on his nightstand- "6 o'clock in the friggin' morning?"

"i did not want you sleeping in," medic says casually. "pyro has been looking for you all morning. i know you are not an early riser, but i'm afraid our little heart-to-heart yesterday detracted from your free time." he takes a sip of his coffee, smacking his lips at the bitter taste. "i am typically a night person myself, but i actually got some decent sleep last night. strange, that...i am usually very caught up in my work, but after i met with you i headed straight to bed. i suppose i was tired in multiple senses of the word. peculiar indeed."

scout gives him a groggy, skeptical look. he can actually see now, so he takes some time to observe the unwelcome intruder who abruptly interrupted his beauty sleep. he's wearing a rather expensive looking bathrobe and silk red pajama bottoms, white bird slippers accentuating his rainbow-socked feet. he's not wearing a shirt, and scout can see bits and pieces of his chest underneath his unbelted robe. his glasses sit upon his face as always, just the slightest bit crooked, his hair messy from no doubt getting up only a little while before he chose to barge in and wake him up uninvited. 

suddenly, loud mumbling breaks the awkward silence, pyro whizzing past scout's open bedroom door (pushing medic aside in the process) to giddily grab onto his tank top, pulling on it with enough force to shake poor scout awake. _/Tom & Jerry is on TV!/_ they sign quickly, hopping up and down in place a bit. _/C'mon, let's go, let's go!/_

"alright, alright, i'm _comin',_ mumbles!" scout is suddenly whisked out of his messy bed, still in his tank top and comic book patterned boxers, pyro dragging him along by the arm out into the hallway. they steer him towards the rec room, the distant sound of sighing and slippers on the hardwood floor letting them both know medic wouldn't be following suit. "you sure it ain't a rerun?" he manages, pyro's speed on their feet still managing to impress him to this day.

_/You missed it last time,/_ they sign grumpily as they finally enter the mostly empty rec room, cartoonish sound effects spilling from the tv's crackly speakers. the only other merc residing within is engineer, lounging casually on the couch and periodically taking bites of his breakfast of eggs and toast. they both opt to take a seat on the floor in front of the sleepy texan, letting him have the couch to himself today. _/Where were you?/_

scout scratches his neck, the guilt of ditching his friend finally starting to sink in. "you know me, firestarter," he says limply, "always runnin' around." pyro pouts at that, the unchanging lenses of their gas mask somehow managing to look angry as they tended to every time pyro was upset about something.

_/Don't lie to me, Scout,/_ they sign, cocking their head for emphasis. _/I overheard you and Medic. What were you two doing?/_

scout's throat goes dry. he can't find the words to properly explain what happened yesterday; he can't just say he spilled his guts, even if pyro's definitely the one he trusts most out of all his teammates. he has _way_ too much pride to admit he was venting to medic of all people. pyro would never let him see the end of it, he was sure of that much.

there's an awkward lull in the conversation, pyro's arms crossed impatiently as they wait for scout to spill the beans. his eyes are glued on the tv, hoping pyro will just give it up already and watch cartoons with him without asking questions, but he knows that pyro is not the type to let go of something like this easily. suddenly, pyro perks up, their agitation seeming to melt into something else. what that is, scout can't quite tell yet.

_/Fine, if you won't tell me, then I'll have to guess,/_ pyro signs, tone still undecipherable. _/Were you guys...**kissing?**/_ scout can't see their face right now, but if he could, he's positive it would have a shit-eating grin smack dab in the middle of it. _/Making out, maybe? Ooh, how **scandalous!**/_

scout groans and plants his palm firmly onto his face. "oh my _god,_ pyro," he says, defeated, playfully shoving them with his other hand. "shut the hell up."

pyro's known for their overactive imagination, so to be fair, he really should have known that they would react that way to his reluctance to say much. teasing him is definitely one of pyro's favorite activities; it's why they taught him sign language in the first place, so scout could understand when they were calling him a dipshit.

"no, we weren't..." he stops, cognizant of the fact engineer is sitting right behind them, "...doing that. stop being a dummy before i punch your lights out. let's watch cartoons."

something about that line attracts the attention of engie, who had just finished his food and was busy wiping the crumbs off of his stubbly chin. "what's goin' on with you two?" he asks casually, bending down to be at eye level with two younger mercenaries in front of him.

_/Scout's got a cruuuush,/_ pyro signs, scout opting to punch them playfully in the arm this time instead in an attempt to make their asl unreadable. in retaliation, pyro smacks him upside the head, not gently either, eliciting an _"ow"_ from their friend.

engineer guffaws at their childish antics. "c'mon, py, don't be like that," he says between chuckles, "leave the poor boy alone, would'ja? he ain't used to risin' early like you an' me. poor feller's brain is probably scrambled from the doc wakin' him up so soon." he turns to look at scout specifically, raising an eyebrow as he scratches his face. "say, speakin' of him, what's with him, yeah? it's not like him to be up this early, man's a night owl. especially weird how he went an' woke you up like that."

"beats me," scout says with a shrug. "maybe he's plannin' to experiment on me and needs my internal clock a certain way or somethin', i dunno. he was talkin' to me last night, on the balcony. whistled like friggin' cinderella to get his bird back."

engineer looks at him like he's got three heads. _"what?"_ his mouth hangs open a bit in surprise. "yer kiddin'."

"dead serious," scout replies, tone dry. "wants me to go back tonight to talk to him."

he conveniently leaves out the fact that he was the one that proposed they meet up again.

engie sits back up, putting his back to the ripped couch pillow. "that man's a puzzle, i'll tell ya that much. ain't a damn thing about him that makes sense." pyro nods in agreement, clambering onto the couch to sit beside their favorite mechanic. "good luck, son. you best pray that destiny's kind and you've still got'cher pancreas by tomorrow."

scout gives pyro a teasing glance, sticking his tongue out at them. _/Know you've got a thing for hard hat,/_ he signs quickly, pyro loudly mumbling for him to go on and get already. thankfully, engie doesn't notice, too distracted by the cartoon mouse whacking a terrified cat on the television screen.

scout leaves the room and heads for the kitchen, probably to grab a can of bonk and get dressed afterwards. heavy passes by him in the hall as he goes, scout waving a small hello to the big guy and getting along on his way. heavy enters the still mostly empty rec room to see pyro and engie casually seated on the couch, the tv still loud and garbled as ever.

"morning," a gruff russian accent yawns, its owner stretching out his achy large arms. "how is everyone?"

engineer and pyro wave hello, pyro getting up and trotting over to the mini fridge to swipe a glass of orange juice. "just fine, partner," engineer says warmly, gesturing for heavy to come sit down. "seat's open."

he obliges the request, the poor couch squealing beneath his immense weight. "cartoons, eh?" heavy says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "did not see you as type to enjoy them."

engineer chuckles, gesturing over to pyro, who was still attempting to fish out a half eaten yogurt cup from the very back of the mini fridge. "firebug likes 'em, so i gave 'em a shot. they ain't too bad. i like this one," engie explains, pointing at the screen. "cat's always tryna tear the mouse a brand new behind, preferably inside his gullet, but the mouse's too quick on his feet for that. then they smack the hell outta each other 'till the cartoon's over."

"interesting," heavy muses, scratching his stubble. "why does cat not just crush mouse with paw and then eat him? it is easier than hitting him with frying pan or using cheese grater." his tone is frank and analytical, his arms crossed as usual.

engineer laughs, retrieving the pack of crayons he always carries in his belt pouch and tossing them casually to pyro, who had finally nabbed the yogurt as well as some orange juice. "always the intellectual, big fella," he says. "it's a cartoon. it don't have to make sense."

"if cat want to kill him with weapon, he should use gun," heavy smirks. "lead pipe and wrench are baby toys."

engineer gives him a playful nudge. "oh, now you've gone and hurt my feelin's."

they discuss the philosophical ideology of cat and mouse cartoons for a while, the rest of their teammates trickling into the rec room over the course of the day. hours tick by, bets are made and lost and torn up bits of playing cards are strewn everywhere by the sore losers of the group (mostly just soldier). soon enough, pretty much everyone is present, save for medic, who had vanished shortly after he gave scout an early wake up call. the old fm radio blares the ever-present sound of crappy rock music, the whirring of desk fans drowning it out just the right amount so it isn't obnoxious.

it's a pleasant evening; the cloudless sky is painted a royal blue, twinkling stars accentuating the full moon seated firmly up high. the warm, slightly sweaty rec room is bustling with activity, as per usual on days when the mercenaries stationed inside had nothing better to do. pyro is asleep on the couch, their head resting comfortably on engineer's leg beside them. he's watching whatever random program is on tv at the moment, not paying much attention as he's ready to pass out himself. heavy is reading a book in an armchair in the corner, absorbed in his literature as always. spy has chosen to spectate the dumpster fire that is sniper and soldier's game night, their endless bickering and soldier's tendency to break things being enough to entertain him for now.

sniper moves his chess piece. _"checkmate!"_ he yells, reveling in his third victory in a row.

soldier slams his hands down on the table with enough force to send pieces flying. "damn it, i demand another rematch, you dehydrated hippie! you _cheated!_"

"oh dear, trouble in paradise," spy mutters under his breath, unable to trifle a snort at their immature behavior.

"how'n the hell did i cheat, wanker? you're the one breakin' all the merchandise!" sniper fires back, surprisingly vocal for once. he typically isn't the type to draw attention to himself, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a couple drinks deep and couldn't be bothered to care about his volume right now. most of them were; boring nights in the base are the slightest bit less boring when you've got alcohol in your system.

"aye, big guy," demo says between sips of scrumpy as he makes his way towards heavy's armchair, "do ye know where the bloody hell doc ran off ta? need ta get me good eye examined. i've been wanderin' aboot smackin' intae walls. think me depth perception's goin' bad again."

heavy shrugs and takes a moment to think, casually sipping his mixed drink; no, he hadn't seen medic since this morning. and now that demo mentions it, scout has been eerily quiet for the past 15 minutes or so. he glances around the room; scout's gone. "i have not seen him," he answers plainly. "i have not seen scout either."

* * *

_alright,_ scout thinks to himself. _it's just medic. be cool._

he had long since retreated to his bedroom to get ready for their little meeting; if medic went through the trouble of getting him up early just to remind him of it, it's probably going to be important. how important, exactly, he isn't too sure, but he wasn't about to piss medic off by not going. when he proposed it, he meant it as more of a 'casual hangout' kind of thing, but medic is _not_ your average everyday person. scout figures he's better off safe than sorry. if this going well means he gets to keep his organs in the same place, that's enough for him right now. he brushes his hair and his teeth, trying to find the most presentable clothes he's got stashed away in his messy dresser. ultimately he settles on an old jacket he hasn't worn in at least three years (thankfully it still fits), skinny jeans, and a nice pair of boots that were a hand-me-down from one of his brothers. he opts to wear his cap backwards to keep an air of casuality about him, hoping it'll hide his nervous disposition.

_okay. deep breath._

he starts the trek to the balcony, the sound of his shoes against the wooden floor breaking the deafening silence of the base. things had died down in the rec room, most of his colleagues calling it a night about an hour ago. it's 9 o'clock at night, certainly a lot later than their last chat. scout was curious about his choice of time, but he didn't really get the chance to question it much, since his only communication with medic today besides this morning was a neon yellow sticky note left haphazardly on his bedroom door. _'9 pm tonight, remember!'_ it said, written in barely decipherable cursive with pen. _doctors always have such bad handwriting,_ scout thinks, and he's so lost in thought that by the time he comes to he's already at the balcony and has bumped directly into medic, feeling his fuzzy cashmere sweater on his face for just a moment before reeling back in surprise.

"watch where you are going, _dummkopf,_" medic says, his tone unreadable. "i brought what you asked for. i had to drive out of town to get it, so you had better appreciate mein effort."

scout scoffs. "jeez, sorry," he mutters, stepping back and getting a better look at the scene before him. medic's standing there in his form fitting vermillion v-neck sweater, a white button up peeking out beneath it. his slacks are clean and freshly pressed, his lace-up boots idly tapping against the floorboards to keep himself occupied. beside him on the ground rest two 6 packs of some kind of alcohol. what kind, scout can't say; he's never seen this specific brand before.

he gestures down towards the beverages. "the hell're those?" he asks, bending down to inspect them. "i ain't ever seen this kinda beer before."

"it's german," medic responds giddily, following suit in taking one. "engineer would definitely know if we swiped the beer from the rec room fridge and get upset. so i went out and bought some just for us, ja? i figured i might as well go the extra mile. this kind is my favorite. i hope you like it. if not, too bad." he opens his bottle with a rather fancy looking bottle opener, taking a big gulp not long after. medic grabs another from the box, cracking it open and handing it to the younger man in front of him. _yeesh,_ scout thinks. he's drank before, but he usually loathes the taste. seeing someone so casually take a big gulp who isn't demo is bizarre. he leans against the familiar balcony railing, medic opting to do the same, taking in the cool night air.

"thanks, doc. when in rome, i guess..." he gives it an experimental sniff, his head involuntarily snapping back a bit at the strong, _strong_ smell emanating from the bottle. "cheers," he says, swallowing his nerves and letting the drink go with it, the taste burning in his throat but not in a particularly bad way. "huh. not bad." he smacks his lips to inspect the taste further; it's bitter, but definitely not the worst thing he's ever drank. "so, like...how's things?"

medic takes another sip. "what?"

"i invited you here to hang out, not just to drink in silence, chucklehead," scout says, using his free hand to remove his cap and set it carefully down on a crate. "don't tell me that you're so socially awkward that you can't even make small talk."

the good doctor pauses for a moment, tapping his fingers against the cool glass of his beer bottle. "well, what is there to talk about?" he asks plainly. "i do not want to bore you with my medical jargon. it's revolutionary scientific progress, but sadly, it does not seem to interest today's youth." his tone is playful, and that lightens the mood a bit. "unless you would rather talk about classic horror cinema for gott knows how long."

scout perks up at that. "horror cinema? ya mean, horror _movies?_" he's audibly interested, and that comes as a surprise to medic if his facial expression is any indication. he feels like an ass for being facetious now. "dude, i friggin' _love_ horror movies. frankenstein, night of the living dead, you name it, i've seen it."

"really?" medic says, wide eyed and his voice full of that giddy, downright manic glee he only ever seemed to show on the battlefield. "i suppose i always assumed you were too cowardly to enjoy such things." he takes another swig of his drink, the bottle unable to hide his growing smug smile beneath it.

scout scoffs mid-sip, a little beer getting in his nose. "yeah, right, weinerschnitzel. you really think i can't watch scary movies? we kill people for a livin'. i think i can handle a couple actors in monster costumes. real spooky." there's a couple seconds of awkward silence between them before they both burst out laughing; neither are really sure of why. "okay, okay," scout says between giggles, "maybe i'm a _little_ scared of horror movies. but i can appreciate artistry when i see it."

"of course," medic says, still giggling, the small of his back to the wood railing as he shifts in place next to scout. "the makeup in dracula was top notch. don't even get me_ started_ on the practical effects in creature from the black lagoon, i will rattle on until mein jaw falls off. to be able to recreate organs and blood so well is a skill even _i_ haven't mastered!"

scout nudges him playfully, the alcohol hitting his gut finally starting to work its magic. "c'mon, doc, cut yourself a break. theirs are just for show. yours are, like," he takes a second to think of the right word to use, "_real._ like, actually usable."

"i suppose you're right," medic chuckles. "you flatter me, scout."

scout burps. "don't get used to it," he manages. "next chance i get i'm gonna tell everyone on base that you're, like, a wacky old freak who loves to wake people up for no reason." he looks to medic, expecting his typical manic laughter, only to receive nothing of the sort. "jus' kiddin'."

"oh please, i think they know that already," medic says in between gulps. suddenly he runs empty, reaching into the box to retrieve another bottle of booze. "i'm just the crazy old man you go to when you've got cuts and lacerations. 'watch out, aahh, here comes medic, he's going to cut off my fingers with a hacksaw and make them into a wind chime!' it's ridiculous."

scout's face drops. "wait, doc, d'you....d'you seriously take those comments people make about you to heart?" suddenly all the rude quips he's made over the years weigh on him like a ton of bricks. "you struck me as the kinda guy who doesn't give a shit what other people think of him."

"i get by," medic states simply, tone dry. "i cannot even blame them, really. no one understands my line of work. i don't expect them to; i've simply accepted my position as the resident lunatic and keep to myself." he downs the rest of his beer and reaches for another, scout's hand stopping him in his tracks.

"hey," he says, voice gentle, eyes full of genuine concern despite being the slightest bit unfocused due to him being sloshed. "doc-i mean, medic...'msorry. i should have never said all that callous shit to ya, mocked ya like that if it was gonna make you into a fuckin' recluse-"

"i was _already_ a recluse, you _imbecile!_" medic snaps, mouth curled into a snarl and eyes wide with fire. scout jumps back, spilling a bit of his beer over the edge of the balcony, the sound of it connecting with the soft dirt below the only noise for a good couple seconds. medic clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. "i am...sorry, scout. it's a touchy subject for me. i hope you understand."

scout places a hand to his shoulder. _"why?"_

if he wasn't drunk right now, medic would have been inclined to slap the younger man upside the head to teach him a lesson, but the liquid courage was already well past his gut and he didn't have the energy to argue with him at the moment. "my upbringing was not that far off from yours, despite our gap in age," medic begins with a sigh, scout backing off so he can grab another bottle from the box. "except i was an only child. why my parents chose to neglect me, i will never know. all i know is that no matter what i did, i could never get them to look and see that i was there." scout nods, grabbing another drink for himself and sighing in turn.

"the only thing alive that acknowledged my existence was an injured bird i found a ways away from our cottage one day. what i named her, i sadly cannot remember." he looks to the stars, pausing for just a moment. "i was quite the delinquent when i was your age, you know. you should have seen me." he seems to recall that last bit with an air of fondness, swishing around his newly opened, mostly full beer bottle.

_"you?"_ scout asks in disbelief. "a _delinquent?_"

"ja. petty theft, vandalism, the like. my passion was science, with a bit of music on the side. our local hospital, oh, how they _despised_ me. i was always sneaking in with my kamerads to snatch some experiment resources. they always took money, i went for the _real_ objects of value." medic has a sad smile across his lips, the light of the moon reflecting off his glasses and hiding his eyes.

scout rubs his shoulder, compassion and sympathy clear as day to see on his face. "damn, doc. that's really heavy. 'm so sorry," he starts. "guess you an' me aren't so different after all, huh? 'cept you've got the better stomach for scary movies." his smile is genuine, the sense of camaraderie thick in the air right now.

"oh, come on, don't be like that," medic chuckles, warmth coming back to his face after reliving those painful memories. "if you get too scared, you could always ask me to hold your hand, dummkopf." he goes to run his fingers through his hair, blissfully unaware of just how forward that comment is.

scout laughs, the tell-tale red of blush blooming on his cheeks. "might need'ta take ya up on that offer sometime." his hand slowly travels from medic's shoulder to his arm, tracing his fingers down the soft cashmere of his sweater. soon it reaches his hand, free of its typical red glove, and experimentally hooks its digits around his.

medic's breath hitches. "scout?" he says, feeling the younger man's wrapped fingers around his own. "what are you," he begins, scout slowly making his way closer, his own intoxication making things the slightest bit blurry. "doing...?"

scout is inches away from his face now, a hazy look of endearment settled in his glazed over his eyes. medic's standing up straight now, the shorter man looking for any sign of rejection in his expression. he doesn't give it, and moves in for the kill, their lips connecting abruptly, sloppily, inexperienced. scout tastes like soda and beer, likewise for medic except coffee is his alternative beverage of choice. medic is surprised, of course, but opts to kiss him back with as much fervor as he initiated it with. he had definitely made some comments that could be construed as flirty before in the past; but he was firmly under the impression that the younger man simply thought that's just... how he was. his sense of shame had been flung out the window some time ago and he's used to just saying whatever comes to mind now, impulse control just as neglected if not more so than his filter.

it's clear as day that scout has very little kissing experience, that or he really _is_ a clumsy drunk (read: lightweight) like engineer had said. not that medic was one to brag; he didn't have much knowledge on this subject either, in fact if you asked he would tell you himself that he's borderline clueless. he had a few boyfriends during his teenage years, but they were all short lived relationships that didn't teach him much of anything. it's been a while; scout can tell. even in their tipsy delirium they both have the sinking feeling that this is a bad idea, despite how nice it feels in the moment. 

_i barely even know you,_ they both think, seemingly in unison._ why does this feel so right?_

scout's hands wander to the buttons of his sweater, unbuttoning it and the white dress shirt beneath it to feel at his bare chest and broad shoulders. his hands ultimately settle around the older man's waist to pull him closer, his wrapped fingers fiddling impatiently with his belt loops. medic decides to wrap his own arms around scout's shoulders, occasionally moving to return the favor and feel underneath his jacket and t-shirt. even through his binder medic can feel scout's heart thundering in his chest; he knew scout was impulsive, but not to this extent, certainly not. the close intimate contact feels incredible, heavenly even; it's been too damn long since he's had anyone in this close proximity to him. scout smells like cheap soda and dollar store gum, occasionally gripping his fingers the slightest bit harder around his waist when he feels particularly inclined. 

likewise, scout is on another planet right now. medic reeks of antiseptic and bird seed yet he can't get enough, his lips feel so good against his own chapped ones. he could just sit here in a drunken stupor and make out with him forever; why exactly that is he doesn't quite know. he's warm and firm, his pectorals taut against his fingers, masculine and wide. the world is quiet save for the occasional whine from scout; nothing else exists in this moment. just him and the weirdly attractive doctor who dared to reach out and stomach his obnoxious ramblings for more than ten minutes at a time.

scout's clearly getting antsy, and medic can tell, his kisses growing more fierce and unfocused. someone needs to pump the brakes on this before it gets out of hand (although you could argue it was out of hand already). medic pulls on the back of scout's coat, pulling the smaller man off of his lips and back into the chilly summer air of reality. scout blinks and medic clears his throat.

then follows a borderline deafening silence.

"uh," scout mutters, pale skin flushed a deep crimson. "'s late. we should sleep."

medic nods. "right. gute nacht, scout."

they separate and exit the balcony, sleepily shuffling to their respective bedrooms alone.

tomorrow is going to be awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD THIS IS SO LONG I AM SO SORRY. i did not intend for this to drag on so long but here's a meaty, MEATY chapter i spent ten thousand years on. as always leave feedback if you feel like it and i hope ya liked it <3
> 
> edit: went back in and fixed some stuff since im a perfectionist as always lmao. added some stuff to the last bit since even though the abrupt ending was on purpose it felt a little Too abrupt


	3. swing for the fences

hot.

so hot.

everything is hot.

medic is in scout's bed, how he got there is unimportant right now; all that matters is that he's running his fingers through scout's hair and kissing him with a hunger and ferocity that scout has only seen him express when he's hacking someone to pieces during battle. his shirt has long since been discarded and lays limply on the ground, the only clothes adorning his masculine figure a loose-fitting pair of slacks lacking the typical leather belt around their loops. scout is just as bare as the man on top of him if not more so, boxers and binder plastered feverishly to his sweaty thin frame.

scout's arms are wrapped around medic's back like a lifeline, fingernails scraping against his flesh and leaving crescent shaped marks. medic doesn't flinch; he simply kisses him harder and clutches the smaller man's hips to make them meet with his. scout shivers; there it is again, the bitter taste of black coffee against his tongue. he can't stand the stuff, personally, but in this moment it's the best thing his mouth has ever been graced with. medic's broad chest is on full display, chock full of hair and warm beneath scout's nervous fingers.

"jeremy," medic rasps, breaking their kiss for just a moment to feel scout's crimson blushing cheek beneath his palm. his breathing is labored, eyes unfocused, ice meeting blue flame. medic dips down to take scout's lower lip between his teeth, steady surgeon's hands roaming a body that he was quite familiar with professionally, but in this context feels foreign and new. scout's warm skin on his feels like heaven, a sensation that wasn't typically awarded to men like him; those who have done what he's done. but that doesn't matter in the here and now. he's too busy feeling up and down scout's lean figure, shoulders full of freckles and skinny midsection seeming to twitch beneath his gentle touches. scout's fingers ghost over his fly, heart catching in his throat and the subsequent sound of him swallowing it back down again alerting medic to what he was after. likewise, medic returns the favor, grasping at the waistband of scout's boxers.

his name...scout wants to say his name.

but...he doesn't know it. he opens his mouth to speak, only for nothing to come out.

"it's okay," medic replies, somehow knowing what scout was going to say. he moves in for a kiss, feeling distant and blurry all of a sudden. scout's ears start ringing. "it's all...just..._fine..._"

suddenly it's too hot.

everything's melting.

it's all colors and sound now. loud, ear grating, shrill sound...

_what's that noise?_

* * *

the tell-tale chirp of his digital alarm clock wakes him with a start.

scout rolls over, slamming a fist down on the damn thing to make it stop its incessant beeping. "uuuuggghhhhh..." he groans, putting an experimental hand to his face; yep, he's blushing. "fuck." he attempts to sit up in bed, his tired and most definitely hungover body aching in turn. he rolls over to check the time, squinting to make out the teeny tiny red numbers on the crappy clock screen. 6:03. _am or pm?_ he thinks, the murky sky outside his window mostly hidden by blinds not giving him much of a clue. _ah, to hell with it. i'll figure it out._

soon he's out of bed and dressed at least semi-presentable, tank top and basketball shorts typically being his casual wear of choice for lazy rainy days like this. the old wood of his door squeaks on its hinges as he makes his exit, lively chatter coming from the general direction of the kitchen letting him know that, oh god, it's probably 6 _pm._ he slept in, big time. they were probably eating dinner by now.

"aye, lad! where the hell've ye been?" the familiar voice of his favorite scotsman rings out in the hall; he must have spotted him approaching. scout sheepishly makes his way into the packed kitchen and plops himself down in an empty chair, rubbing his arm nervously at the acknowledgement. "i know we ain't exactly used tae this kind o' free time, but fer god's sake, didja really have tae go an' sleep all bloody day?" his tone conveys more worry than anything else, demo always being the type to call you out on your nonsense rather than sit idly by.

scout gulps. "sorry, i had, uhh...a long night." he shakes his head; he can't remember much of what happened, other than medic buying fancy imported beer and telling him about some of his personal demons. everything after that gets blurry.

sniper raises an eyebrow. "what's been with ya, mate? y'seem off. you feelin' sick or somethin'?" he pokes idly at his dinner, an elaborate sandwich stacked tall with fixins and condiments alike. heavy was definitely on cooking duty tonight; figures he'd miss out when the most competent chef on their team made dinner. "ya look hung over, for one thing. here, take this, lad. i wasn't gonna drink it anyway." sniper tosses him a bottled water from across the table (he could have just passed it, but that's neither here nor there).

"thanks, snipes," scout smiles, unscrewing the cap and taking a big gulp of the stuff. ahh, _hydration,_ something his soda-addicted body probably really needed for a while.

sniper waves his hand. "don't mention it. just try'n wake up at a reasonable time tomorrow, yeah? doc and i are the resident night owls here. don't want you turnin' into a nutty old loon like us." scout looks around; again, medic is mysteriously absent. "now get yourself somethin' to eat, wouldja? the big guy made sandwiches. they're damn good but bloody huge, i shouldn't have asked for seconds."

before he can do anything, a plate is suddenly placed before him atop the red and white checkered tablecloth. on it is a bologna sandwich with cheese and mustard, just how he likes it; heavy was a man of few words who preferred to listen, even to loudmouthed morons like scout. "little man must eat. sleeping that long is bad for you," heavy says, wiping the bread crumbs off his hands on a nearby dish towel. "let me guess. you drink too much again, da?"

scout grimaces, engineer's unchanging goggles from directly across the table somehow managing to look menacing despite their static appearance. "uhh, no, actually. i was just up all night, ah, doin' target practice." engineer slumps back in his seat, arms crossed. oh boy.

"yeah, _right,_" he says, his usual easygoing tone out the window in favor of a more gravelly, authoritative one. "boy, if you were, i woulda seen ya, and _heard_ ya for that matter. i appreciate a bit of late night wanderin' myself, helps me clear my head. what i did see, however, was you n' the doc drinkin' up a damn storm on the balcony." every other merc currently seated at the table's head snaps to look at scout almost in unison; here we go. "you know you ain't supposed to be doin' that. you pass out like a rock afterwards."

demo takes a bite out of his sandwich, scratching at his eyepatch. "what? medic? drinkin' anywhere _but_ one o' them crazy base parties? sounds far fetched, laddie," he manages between bites. "granted, the ol' doc's well past mad, so it wouldn't surprise me one bit. of all people ta drink with, why you though, lad? no offense. just seems a wee bit odd, is all." pyro is glaring at scout from across the table, elbows smugly resting atop the cloth and both of their hands cupped around their mask. _/Dipshit,/_ they sign briefly.

spy takes a drag of his cigarette, opening the kitchen fridge to prove a point. "a likely story, laborer. the refrigerator is still stocked to bursting with your gauche american beer. are you sure you weren't just seeing things?" soldier, who had been three sandwiches deep and was currently in the process of eating his 4th, gawks at the display.

"dear _god!_ the fridge has somehow manifested more beer! this is clearly the work of that rat bastard merasmus, don't take a single damn _sip_ of that hippie conjured sh-"

"no, soldier. i went to the store the other day."

"oh. sorry. can i have some?"

spy groans and hands demo a beer for him to pass along to soldier; he opts to chuck it instead, the glass bottle cracking on impact once it reaches soldier's helmet. "thank you, demo!" he says, ripping off the bottle cap and taking a loud sip of the stuff. "what about you and medic drinking? the only times i've ever seen him drink are when we've had a nasty loss or at base parties." he scratches his chin in thought with the lip of the bottle. "like that one time he drank mugs and mugs full of that german crap and took all his clothes off."

heavy, who had been casually drinking a glass of milk, audibly laughs at that, spitting milk onto the counter. "he did_ not_ take clothes off," he chuckles, wiping up his mess. "doktor gets clumsy when he drinks too much. stumbled right into little pyro's bonfire. pants were ruined. had to walk around in boxers for rest of party. ohh, that slaps me on the knee." the rest of the team shares a hearty chuckle at the memory, scout not seeming to recall this event occurring whatsoever if his silence is any indication.

"what's the matter, boyo? do ye not remember?" demo nudges him playfully, scout feigning a chuckle in response. no, he doesn't remember. "oh, i nearly forgot, yer a lightweight. dunnae why i even asked, of course ye don't recall." in hindsight, scout kind of wishes he remembers that; it was probably hilarious. "dunnae where the hell he went, anyway. collected his food an' scampered off like the little rat he is."

scout finishes his sandwich, letting everyone else finish talking before he interjects just this once. "thanks for the dinner, big fella," he says, giving heavy a playful punch to the side. "there's a reason i steal this crap from the blu heavy constantly." heavy rolls his eyes, opting to not pick a fight and take everyone's empty plates to the sink instead.

"alright, alright. dinner is finished. now get out." heavy makes a sweeping motion with his hands to get everyone to scatter; he prefers to clean up the resulting dinner mess by himself so nobody gets in the way.

"thanks fer the grub, heavy," demo says, patting him on the back. "god blessed ye with the ability to make the world's finest sandwich, an' i thank ye fer that. way better than the aussie's mystery meat pie, that's fer sure."

sniper slaps demo on the back of the head. "quiet, wanker! i'd like to see you try an' make a gourmet meatloaf!"

demo scoffs. "aye, 'i'd like tae see ye try an' make a gourmet meatloaf', he says...ye don't know nothin' aboot me cookin'! me mum taught me everythin' i needed tae know aboot cookin'. i make a mean tray o' cookies, that's fer certain! an' eyelander makes fer a fantastic pizza cutter."

"he's right," soldier chimes in.

"did i say 'sit here and bicker like babies', or did i say _GO?_" heavy's voice booms, everyone scuttling out of the kitchen to not incur any more of his wrath. most of them head towards the rec room to play cards or watch tv, but scout has other things on his mind right now. he licks his fingers (damn, heavy's a good chef) and heads towards the infirmary, feeling particularly inclined for a reason he doesn't quite know; he just feels like seeing medic again. they've been getting along pretty well lately, and he has a new perspective on the guy he hadn't considered before. now he wasn't the creepy guy he went to for checkups sometimes, they had a ritual going and he was a fan of their talks (weird, semi-wet dreams be damned).

he often went to his other colleagues for guidance (demo, sniper, soldier and engie for practical advice, heavy and spy for philosophical advice, pyro and demo for emotional advice) but medic had always been excluded from that. probably because, he wouldn't lie, he thought the guy was kind of kooky. an unfeeling, apathetic, mood-swingy surgeon with a penchant for excessive violence._ don't judge a book by its cover, i guess,_ he thinks. _even if you can't read._

his musing is cut short by a faint sound in the distance; what that is, he can't quite make out yet. the cold, sterile scent of the infirmary grows ever closer as he approaches, as well as the noise. _what is that?_ he thinks, wisely making the choice to tread with caution. the tile is cool against his socked feet, a figure barely visible in the dimly lit laboratory. he peeks his head in, seemingly not attracting the attention of the person inside. it's medic, of course, but he's holding something. _is that...?_

the faint notes of a violin being played enter scout's ears, his eyes finally adjusting to the fluorescent ceiling lights. there medic stands, alone and seemingly absorbed into his craft, playing away on a rather expensive looking violin to a sheet of notes propped idly on a tray meant for holding medical supplies. archimedes is perched happily atop his shoulder, unfazed by his sweeping arm movements as he plays the night away. a record spins idly in the dusty old player that he apparently has, resting atop a filing cabinet. scout doesn't know what the hell to do; the man looks damn near regal like this, wrapped up in his own little world, making music like nobody's listening. he almost doesn't want to disturb him. he could watch this for hours, despite his low attention span, maybe even join in with his own instrument. he's a bit rusty at guitar (engie tried to teach him once to moderate success) but that might pair nicely with his string solos...

suddenly, the music stops abruptly. the record scratches to a halt.

_"who's there?"_

scout gulps. "oh, hey, doc," he says, head still peeking through the open infirmary door. "am i...interruptin' somethin'? 'msorry."

"oh, it's just you," medic says, visibly relaxing at the identity of the intruder. scout doesn't know whether or not to be flattered or horrified at the fact medic trusts him enough to deflate like that at his presence. "come in!"

scout finally enters the chilly infirmary, shivering a bit at the change in temperature. "what are you doing here? i was just, eh...practicing something," medic says, unsure. scout's taken aback by that, seeing as medic was the person on their team with by far the least shame. the fact he's oddly secretive about anyone hearing him play his instrument of choice despite the fact he's mentioned it multiple times is a little odd.

"oh, just wanted to drop by an' say hi, i guess. got nothin' better to do." scout puts his arms behind his head, trying to keep a smug aura about him. "just felt like seein' ya." he shuffles in place, bouncing his leg to keep himself occupied. "you're pretty good at that."

medic scoffs. "oh, this? this is nothing," he says. "do you play an instrument?"

scout shrugs. "a little. engie taught me to play guitar a while back and not to toot my own horn or anything but i'm kinda, like, really good at it." medic raises an eyebrow. "no, for real, i'm serious. i'm a god at guitar. ladies love it."

medic's eyebrow raises even further. "_ladies,_ huh?" he says, trifling a laugh. "i notice you've been gawking at mein record player. it's an old hand-me-down, but it still works. music helps me concentrate; doing paperwork is not the most riveting activity, especially not for someone like myself. reminds me of when i knew how to waltz in my youth." he goes to set down his violin in its case, shuttering the latches with a satisfying click.

"doc, you're pullin' my friggin' leg," scout says. "you? _dancing?_ come on. no way."

medic takes that as a challenge. "oh, yes,_ way._ do you want me to show you?" he extends a gloved hand, stone faced and serious. _oh my god,_ scout thinks. _he's fucking serious._

scout lets out a long, laborious sigh. _i'm really about to do this, aren't i?_

he walks towards the man in front of him, brows furrowed in defeat. "alright, _fine._ if you're so skilled at dancing," he places his own wrapped hand in medic's, "lemme see what'cha got." medic's face lights up like a smissmas tree; the look of genuine glee on his face, not maniacal in the slightest, sends scout for a loop. medic leads him over to the record player, yanking his entire weight across the tile floor of the lab like he was nothing. _holy shit._ he knew medic was a pretty physically fit guy, but to be able to drag his whole frame across the room effortlessly like that was something else entirely. he places a new record onto the player and the opening notes of a tune that might play at a ballroom dance begin to swirl around the room.

"if you step on my feet, i'll end you," medic says casually, steering him back to the center of the room where there's more free space. "it's quite simple, really; just place your hand here..." he moves one of scout's hands to his shoulder, "and here." he moves the other to his waist. it's a little awkward since medic is definitely taller than scout by no small margin, but they'll make it work. the good doctor was never one to turn down a challenge; he'll have this scrawny little punk dancing like a pro by the end of the night.

the tempo of the song picks up, and they start to move, scout's two left feet absolutely showing themselves in this moment. he's stepping on medic's toes, nearly toppling them both over and his sense of rhythm is borderline nonexistent. medic isn't quiet about his criticisms; an endless spray of "dummkopf" and "ouch" leave his mouth in a sequence, each attempt to correct scout only making him dance worse.

"augh! watch it, _watch it!_ do _not_ get your dirty socks on my coat!"

"sorry, sorry, doc! it's just-holy _crap_ this is hard-_archimedes,_ get outta my face, chucklenuts-"

"verdammt, you imbecile, just-_augh!_ stop moving so fast!"

they have a few failed attempts, to put it lightly.

hours pass.

"for the last time," medic manages through gritted teeth, "you put your feet_ here,_ and your hands _here._"

"like this?" scout says, finally starting to get it. he swings medic around, the taller man surprised by his sudden strength. soon his feet stop their incessant stomping on medic's boots, and they're gliding across the lab floor, the record spinning on loop as it had many, many times over the course of the night. it's dark now, the overhead lights long since flickered out and leaving them in blue twilight. the song is softer, quieter this time, record worn from all the use it had no doubt gotten today. the light of the moon outside gleams off of medic's glasses in a way that would typically be threatening, but in this sole instance it makes him look almost otherworldly.

"yes!" medic yells, earnest delight in his tone. "you're doing it! you've got it!" medic gives scout an experimental spin, leaving him dizzy and cross-eyed; they both laugh at the display. they clumsily smack into lab equipment and filing cabinets alike, sending papers flying here, there, and everywhere. they're no longer agitated with each other's incompetence. instead, they revel in it, within the dark confines of the infirmary.

"two left feet my perfectly sculpted _ass!_ i'm sweepin' ya off your feet here!" scout brags, medic pulling him closer and grasping his hands for a slower form of dance. "one point for me, zero points for you." he can feel the familiar fabric of medic's white coat beneath his fingers. it's a bizarre sensation, but he likes it all the same.

medic rolls his eyes. "you do realize this is a win-win situation for both of us, right, dummkopf?" his hands are in scout's, now guiding him through some type of waltz. "you gain a new skill, and i get to be correct at the end of the day."

"correct about what, brainiac? that i'm the best dancer you ever seen? that i'm sexy as h-"

"scout," medic laughs. "shut up. _please._"

scout chuckles back, no witty comment or quip coming to mind at the moment. "okay."

minutes tick by as if they're nothing at all. they're having such a good time that when they glance over at the wall mounted clock and find out what time it is, they're shocked. they release each other, the cold of the infirmary hitting them both at the lack of touch. "oh, we got carried away, i'm afraid," medic says, a sense of longing in his voice saying without words that he doesn't want it to end. "why don't we get some sleep, ja? i mean, _you_ should get some sleep. i will be here doing all this paperwork i neglected in favor of dancing with _someone_ who keeps interrupting my work."

the younger man smiles at him. "thanks for makin' me into a lean, mean, dancin' machine, doc. i appreciate it. have a good night." as he goes to make his exit, he pauses for a moment, the whirring of equipment and idle coos of medic's doves echoing through his ears reminding him of something he had the strangest impulse to ask all day yet never got the opportunity to.

"medic?" scout says, his voice echoing through the mostly empty infirmary. "what's...do you mind if...can i ask you something?"

"what is it now, _schweinhund,_" medic says, the tell-tale crankiness of his person finally starting to show itself.

"what's, like...can i...what's your name?"

medic pauses. "my...name?"

"yeah," scout continues, a lump forming in his throat. "like, your..._real_ name."

medic's eyebrow is so high up on his face it's about to fly off. "why do you want to know?"

"just...just 'cause, i guess." he rubs at his arm, ready to give it up already and leave. after an awkward silence, he opts to do just that, the sound of his footsteps against the floor the only audio as he makes his exit.

"scout," medic calls out, distant. "wait."

the younger man peeks his head back in. "what?"

"ludwig."

"huh?"

"my name...it's ludwig."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY so like uhhh this is rated M for a reason, for Bad Words and the like but also. Things Happen. there's no explicit descriptions of Acts or anything like that or else i'd bump this up to E but i just couldn't resist, ya feel. also as a little Author's Note i listened to like, exclusively lil peep and the 1975 as i was writing this, inside your mind in particular is a Very mediscout track methinks. regardless i hope y'all like how this is shaping up so far and i've been working super hard on it (this fic is like. My Baby) even if it's a bit aimless at the moment fdghjbfdgjh.


	4. foul ball

_ludwig._

he likes the name, ludwig; it's just as prim and proper as the man it belongs to.

he's thinking about him again.

it's been a couple days since their impromptu dancing lesson. the rest of the team has seemingly gotten used to scout gravitating around medic's general vicinity at all times, opting to not ask intrusive questions and possibly make things awkward.

whether it be to help with simple odd jobs around the lab, stand around and talk (a new favorite hobby of theirs, evidently) or binge watch horror movies on medic's dinky little infirmary tv, scout would take any opportunity available to him to hang out with the team's doctor.

this puzzled medic. a fair bit, actually.

why on earth such a loudmouthed, impatient young man like scout appreciated his presence so much was ever the mystery to him; not that he didn't enjoy his company as well, of course, but he couldn't help but find it ever so strange and intriguing. especially since the younger man didn't seem to remember their...well, ahem, _altercation_ on the balcony that one late, cool summer night.

his heritage and years of experience under his belt have certainly bumped up his alcohol tolerance by no small margin. much unlike scout (who's a textbook blackout drunk), he recalled it vividly, fresh in his mind as if it were still the day it occurred. why his brain chooses to retain such information remains just as elusive if not more so than the oddity of the younger man's affection for him. it couldn't be that he was developing feelings for the boy, no, of course not.

even if he loves the way that his overbite complements his face when he smiles, that alluring, dorky smile he attempts (and fails) to hide with overcompensating bravado. even if the scattered freckles across his cheeks remind him of the night sky in stuttgart, bright and wonderful, even better when they stick out above the cherry red blush that oh so often crept across his cheeks. even if he tasted of soda and dollar store gum, that intoxicating mix of flavors remaining on medic's tongue days after the fact. even if he makes an actual, legitimate effort to connect with him on a deeper level instead of writing him off as creepy and calling it a day, despite all the demons he's got knocking on his door, never affording him a moment of respite. except...when he's with...

_him._

_oh dear._

_he might have a problem._

"doc!" the familiar boston accent chimes in, snapping medic out of his musing. "me 'n the guys are goin' out to see a movie! are you comin', or are you comin'?" he's got that typical smug edge to his voice, expecting a yes at the very least.

he pauses for a moment, scratching his chin in thought; no, he has way too much paperwork to do right now. he's been pushing it aside to goof off with scout for days, and it required his utmost attention at the moment. "ach, nein, not today," medic says, disappointment lacing his tone. "i have way too much paperwork to catch up on. i might have been able to, if i was not constantly being interrupted by a little devil who loves getting in the way of my professional obligations." he lightens up a little when that last part elicits a loud, obnoxious chuckle from scout, currently leaning casually against a metal table used for holding medical tools.

at this point, he's quite comfortable with all the instruments in the lab; medic has explained to him ad nauseum what each one was for by now, the glint in his eye just the slightest bit frightening as scout had listened intently for once in his life. "aww, c'mon, four eyes," scout whines playfully, "_somebody's_ gotta get you to loosen up every once in a while."

archimedes perches casually atop his cap during the conversation, scaring the shit out of scout and causing him to jump up in place a bit. "hey, what the hell, get _off-_" he scrambles to get that pesky bastard off of him, medic's grumpiness melting into mild amusement at the silly sight. "aghh, damn birds...oh! uh, anyway, so, like, i'll just fill ya in when we get back then, 'kay?" he says, plucking white feathers off of his cap with a grumble and turning around to make his exit. "have a good one, doc." he walks out of the infirmary, his sneakers squeaking against the tile floor and getting progressively quieter until there's nothing but silence.

suddenly, medic is alone again.

he inhales, taking in the familiar scent of antiseptic and black coffee before promptly exhaling through his nose, the faint beep of medical equipment and shuffling of his doves the only thing keeping him company in this moment of solitude. he trudges through the dimly lit infirmary, fluorescent lights flickering a sickly pale yellow oppressively overhead and illuminating off of shiny metal trays and gurneys alike.

medic plops himself down on his worn old desk chair, retrieving a thoroughly chewed up pen from the leftmost drawer and putting the tip to an oft discarded paperwork he was supposed to fill out days ago. he was typically very punctual with work and the like; no one tended to bother him much during his work hours, so he had ample time to finish everything in a timely manner.

key word being _was._

_someone_ has been putting a damper on his work ethic, that's for sure. cheesy as it may be, it would be apt to say scout made him feel young again; pushing aside important duties for tomfoolery was off the table for him for so long he had forgotten how good it felt to neglect one's responsibilities.

he stares blankly at the page before him, placing his well loved pen to his lips to chew it idly. he can't concentrate right now, that's for sure. he tries and tries to fill out the form, but his mind keeps snapping back to the obnoxious little bostonian man who he had grown accustomed to interrupting his productivity.

suddenly, he gets an idea.

ignoring the paperwork once more, he opens the tall drawer to his right, rifling through manila folder after manila folder to find what he was searching for. demoman, heavy, pyro...aha, there it is, scout. he opens the all-too-familiar worn out folder, confidential documents now strewn about everywhere on the surface of his desk. he scans each and every page, looking for one particular snippet of information; not height, not weight...name, name, name, what's in a name...

then, he finds it.

_jeremy._

he stares at the paper containing scout's real name for much longer than he'd like to admit; he runs his gloved fingers across the typeface, words etched onto the page with dull, faded black ink. he feels each individual letter beneath his touch, suddenly becoming acutely aware of how oddly...intimate this knowledge is.

how he just let scout know his own name the moment he asked.

medic shakes his head; he doesn't have time for this nonsense right now. he places the nib of the pen back to his paperwork, grasping his hair and pulling half out of frustration and half out of being unable to control his wandering thoughts. he involuntarily thinks back to a conversation they had not too long ago, fleeting as it may have been...

* * *

_"so," scout starts, idly shoveling kernels of popcorn into his mouth and interrupting their casual game of cards. "doc, do you believe in like, fate?"_

_medic raises an eyebrow. "fate?"_

_"yeah," he continues, swallowing the buttery stuff down and following it up with a swig of his soda. "like, destiny or some crap like that."_

_medic shrugs. "i am not particularly inclined," he begins, "but i suppose a man of science like myself wouldn't be."_

_scout chuckles at that, resting his feet atop the metal table and balancing his chair on one of its wobbly legs. he's not supposed to do that, and if he were anyone else medic would have gutted him alive, but he's allowed for a reason he can't quite parse himself. "i'm askin' cause, i dunno," he says, unsure, "i feel like the day you walked out onto the balcony with me was fate. i used to think you were like, super freakin' creepy, i'm not gonna lie. i was scared you were gonna inject me with some sorta nasty concoction every time i came down to get my vaccines. but look at us now. you an' me, we're tight as hell."_

_medic winces. "tight?"_

_"it's an expression, doc," scout groans. "point bein', hey, i'm glad you walked out that day. i like spending time with ya, chucklehead." he checks the time; pyro's expecting him in the rec room, and he's five minutes late. "oh shit," he grumbles, stumbling out of his seat and shimmying back into his discarded jacket he had hooked onto a nearby gurney. "see ya, doc! thanks for the game!" he hurries out of the infirmary, one sleeve still dangling freely from his coat._

_"don't hurt yourself on the way out, dummkopf!" medic's voice echoes through the lab, and soon the tell-tale slam of the door leaves him by his lonesome once more. "fate..." he repeats, softly, quietly._

_he's in love with him._

_no doubt about it._

* * *

"medic!" a shrill, feminine voice calls out, snapping him out of his haze. _miss pauling?_ he thinks, rising out of his seat and rubbing his temples to shake the weird feeling he's got going on right now.

he looks to the infirmary entrance, and sure enough, there she is. she's holding a wooden crate of questionable origin, and it appears to be heavy since she's struggling to not buckle under its weight. "pauling?" he says, opting to grab the box and free her of the strain of carrying it.

"thank you, medic," she sighs. "got a new shipment of...um..._research_ materials for you. i had to pull some strings to get this, so you'd better appreciate it." medic scoffs until he lifts the lid of the crate to peek inside, organs of dubious quality strewn about the bottom. they'd be enough, for now; he's needed a project to work on for a while. "this is a thank-you gift for keeping scout out of my hair. i haven't gotten any annoying phone calls from him in days! i heard from the others he's been hanging around you a lot lately and i figured i'd reward you for saving me the headache. i don't know how you stomach him all the time."

medic feels sweat start to form at his brow, throat going tight in turn. "well, you know, he is...not that bad once you get to know him," he manages, placing the box down beside his desk for later use.

miss pauling laughs, assuming he's kidding. "oh please, i'd rather bury bodies all day than get to know that guy," she jokes. "i know i do that for a living anyway, but you get what i mean." her chuckling ceases when she sees medic's odd facial expression; _huh, weird,_ she thinks. _what's with him?_

he clears his throat. "danke schoen for the gift, pauling," he says cordially, steeling himself for the awkward conversation ahead. he hopes she'll give it up, but the woman is too damn observant for her own good. "i appreciate it."

she can't place it, but something is absolutely off about medic right now, more so than usual which is unbelievably worrying. "are you...feeling alright?" she asks, seeing right through his attempt to stay apathetic. "no, something's definitely up with you. i can see it on your face."

medic sighs, placing two fingers to the bridge of his nose. _"look,"_ he starts, that classic medic grumpiness dripping off his voice, "this does not concern you. frankly, it is none of your business what may or may not be troubling me at any given time." miss pauling responds with action, shutting the infirmary door with a loud *thump* so no one can walk in on their sensitive conversation. _oh dear._

"you better tell me what's wrong, or i might take this box right back to the administrator right now and tell her you gave me lip today," she starts, brows furrowed, lipstick coated lips turned in a frown. "come on, medic. it's just me. you can talk to me, you know." she gives him a sympathetic look, hands resting idly on her hips.

he sighs, deciding to give up fighting already. "scout has been hovering around my general area ever since i ran into him on the balcony a short while ago," he explains, nervously twiddling his fingers. "i have been..._greatly_ enjoying the time i've spent with him so far." he gulps, hoping she gets the memo. she locks eyes with him for a moment, gaze softening. her eyes go wide.

"don't tell me," she gasps. _"don't fucking tell me."_

medic exhales, and then nods nervously, sweat trickling down his forehead. "it's...not really something i can control nor explain. i am at a loss for what to do." miss pauling chuckles, partly out of disbelief and partly out of the dramatic irony of this scenario.

"listen," she starts, placing two fingers to her temple and rubbing to deter her swiftly incoming migraine. "if that's sincerely how you feel, you might as well just tell him. it isn't like you to have a sense of shame, medic." she sighs deeply, running her fingers through the dark strands of her hair bun. "this is ridiculous, don't get it twisted. but i can't say i'm shocked." she shrugs. "i gotta admit, though, i always thought you'd end up falling for heavy, but i guess he isn't your style."

medic's face flushes crimson red in an instant. "my love life is none of your business,_ dummkopf!_" he spits, miss pauling grimacing and stepping back, not wanting to incur any more of medic's trademark wrath. "you've got what you were asking for, now get out and leave me be before i make you into my next test subject."

she's quick to heed his advice, waving a prompt goodbye and briskly walking out of the infirmary, her heels clicking against the tile floor. medic follows her out in a huff, boots thumping angrily behind her, intent on heading for the kitchen for some coffee. perhaps some caffeine will calm his alight nerves; just in time, too, since he can hear the idle chatter of his teammates as they enter the base. they're back from the movie._ oh, thank god,_ he thinks. he makes sure to greet everyone with the best smile he can muster at the moment, masking the cocktail of emotions he's feeling as to not make any of them worry. 

"doc!" scout says excitedly, running over to greet the good doctor with his infectious enthusiasm. "man, you shoulda been there, the movie was friggin' _awesome!_ c'mon, let's go, i'll tell ya all about it over snacks. lemme make us some tv dinners, yeah?" he grabs impatiently onto medic's arm, dragging him towards the microwave. no skin off his back, he was there to get some food anyway; the bad mood melts off of him like it was never there at scout's usual optimism, the residual flush of red from earlier still sitting flat on his cheeks as he's whisked away by the younger man he's grown an unusual fondness for.

_oh well,_ medic thinks. _i could use something to eat anyway._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY it's your boy back with another chapter of this damn thing lol. tried to keep it shorter this time, each chapter having like 4k words is probably not the greatest so i've tried to reel it back a little. regardless i hope you enjoyed as always <3


	5. home run

_alright._

_this is it._

_don't screw this up._

scout browses the wares of the quaint little antique shop, running his wrapped fingers along the ridges of intricately carved wooden knick-knacks littering the dusty old shelves. he's here to pick up a gift for a friend, pained as he is to say that's all they'll ever be. he hopes to change that; even if his chances are as slim as he is, he can't go on any longer like this.

"fawning" and "yearning" are _not_ words in his vocabulary, no sirree, and like hell is he gonna just sit here and stew in his pity for the rest of his life. he's nervous, believe it or not, but that's not gonna stop him from sweeping that german lunatic right off his feet (gently, mind you. medic's old, he doesn't wanna dislocate the poor guy's hip) with his endless charm and charisma. that, and a nice little trinket from this shop the good doctor had ranted and raved about many times over the time they had spent together. today is the last day of their two-week long furlough, and he wants to make it count.

he's gonna tell medic how he feels about him.

he put it off as long as he could (procrastination, a classic scout activity) and is now rushing like hell to get everything in order by the end of the day. he got sniper to drive him here since it's a decent distance from the base and a little out of the way, nestled between unoccupied buildings in a tiny shopping center. it's quaint, but homey; the distinct scent of wood varnish and old people carpet fills his nose, and odd as it may be, it's strangely relaxing to take in. the store is cramped, a little too cramped, but everything is neatly organized by date and type. _that's probably why doc likes it so much,_ scout thinks to himself, idly feeling the grooves of a small wooden clock he had picked up to check the price._ yeesh._ this stuff is worth a pretty penny, but he supposes it's worth it. not like he had anything better to spend his last paycheck on anyway.

sniper's gruff, slightly annoyed voice snaps him out of his thinking. "mate," he starts, tapping his foot, "i wouldn't have agreed ta drive ya if i knew you'd take all day." he swats some floating dust particles out of his face with a gloved hand.

"look, i'm hurryin', alright? i just don't wanna buy the wrong friggin' thing-"

"by the by," he says, "why'n the hell _did_ ya ask me to bring you here? when ya said 'antique shop' i assumed ya meant someplace with vintage baseball cards or somethin'." sniper gestures around the small interior of the shop, making sure to point out the most drab and disheveled items on display. "not yer grandpa's bloody garage sale."

scout can feel the color creeping onto his cheeks. "oh, uhh," he starts, placing the object he was messing with gently back on the shelf, "'s a gift. for someone." sniper is not satisfied with his response; he lowers his sunglasses skeptically and furrows his eyebrows so scout can make eye contact with him. he only ever does that when he thinks you're not giving him the whole truth. he's in trouble now.

he shakes a particularly gnarly looking ornament for emphasis, dust caking its rim and the meticulous handiwork muddied due to sheer age alone. "these right gross things? a _gift?_" he shakes his head. "dunno what kinda sheila you think miss pauling is, but mate, i highly doubt she'll appreciate somethin' grody like this. she's classy, not an antiques nut. y'know who _would_ love this junk? _medic._"

scout feels his throat go dry in an instant.

"what, are you kiddin'?" he retorts, face now burning a noticable red. "he's-uhh, i mean, she's-gonna love it. you don't know _jack_ about datin', sniper. could use a guy like me to coach ya on all the ins n' outs."

sniper damn near guffaws at that.

_"mate,_" he croaks, blinking back tears and forcing himself to quiet down as to not send the elderly man behind the counter to an early grave of a heart attack, "you are-you are unbelievably bad at hiding things, y'know that? look, i'll help ya pick somethin' out fer the doc. you can quit'cher fibbin' now, lad. tall tales ain't gonna fool anybody. feel like a bloomin' idiot for not seein' it sooner."

he gives scout a couple reassuring (read: overly rough) pats on the back and leads him to the tallest shelf in the store as the poor boy's throat clamps again in a mixture of humiliation and silent relief that sniper doesn't really care about his strange infatuation too much. they reach their destination, sniper using his superior height to grab an ornate wood carving of a bird that was stashed way up high. "_easy does it,_" he mutters to himself as he shimmies the delicate collectible down, scout staring in awe at its intricate engravings and detail. "what'cha think about this 'un, lad?" he hands the trinket to scout, his eyes lighting up at the sight of it.

the clerk behind the counter perks up at their choice, and they feel as though they've picked the right gift. "he'll friggin' _love_ this, snipes," scout says, enamored with the little avian carving enough to completely ignore its overly inflated price tag. they walk over to the dusty checkout desk and place the knick-knack onto the table, scout reaching into his pocket to pull out his bonk-printed wallet and pay for the damn thing already. they've waffled around enough in here, it's time to get a move on.

"that'll be..." the small elderly man behind the counter says, adjusting his spectacles to clearly read the small print of the price tag, "about $70."

"_seventy bucks?!_" sniper gawks. "mate, let's split it, yeah? as long as your flakey ass promises to pay me back at some point. don't want you runnin' off thinkin' you can just bum money offa any bloke who'll humor ya."

scout lets out a nervous yet happy laugh, playfully punching sniper in the arm as he reaches for his own wallet. "thanks, snipes. i promise i'll pay ya back this time."

"shut yer gab before i change my bloody mind," sniper mutters, handing the bills to the cashier as scout does. he rings them up and then they're good to go, waving a brisk goodbye and exiting the crowded little shop. their shoes thump against the worn carpet and the bell fastened to the old wooden door jingles as they open it, finally inhaling in unison as they bask in the fresh summer evening air.

the stuffiness of the antique shop they were just in makes them appreciate it even more, and they feel like they can both finally breathe again. the sky is an oppressive shade of deep orange overhead, thin pink clouds rolling by in increments and not doing much to shield their eyes from the brightness of the setting sun. it's quite a sight to behold; even if the dead shopping center wasn't the most lively of locales.

they walk briskly to the familiar camper van, scout's hands tightly clutching the plastic bag containing the heartfelt gift. _you better friggin' like this, you wacky old fart,_ he thinks, opening the door and plopping himself down in the slightly crumb-filled passenger seat. he grimaces when he feels bits of sniper's oft-munched on granola bars on his pants, shuffling in his seat to wipe the damn things off as soon as humanly possible. sniper joins him soon after, placing the bag on the mat below scout's seat and placing his key in the ignition to drive home.

"so," sniper says, the rumbling of the van on the bumpy old empty road accompanying his gravelly voice, "the doc, eh? never saw ya as the type to like older blokes. or blokes in general, to be 100 percent honest with ya." he taps his fingers against the steering wheel idly as they travel, switching on the radio and turning down the knob to a reasonable volume. soft rock music accompanies their discussion, the well loved speakers of the van emitting crackly sound. "man's a bit of a loon. was never one for conversation, but when he's around you it's like he's a completely different person."

scout relaxes his shoulders, the plush fabric of the camper seat flush against his back. "dunno," he mutters. "he's-god, how the hell do i put this-i know he's like, really old an' weird an' creepy, but he came out to see me one day when i was sulkin' on the balcony like a friggin' _idiot_ instead of watching star trek with mumbles like i was supposed to, and he actually talked to me!" scout is animated as he explains this to sniper, who is stoic and composed in comparison. "about, like, stuff! y'know! an' it was real nice. i liked that. also, about guys, i don't really know about that either. miss p's real pretty an' i like her a whole bunch, and i thought that was what, like, love felt like, you know? an' then doc takes his glasses off for _five freakin' seconds_ an' my whole world gets flipped around."

"ya like yer men with defined cheekbones, i presume," sniper grins, adjusting his overhead mirror. "despite his age, he ain't a bad lookin' guy. i don't blame ya, i'm just not too certain on how ya look past...well, everything else."

scout shrugs. "i mean, it's a little weird, i guess, but like, snipes, we kill people for a livin'. we're all a little screwy in the head." he picks up the plastic bag at his feet and fiddles with the item inside, restless as ever. they're nearing their destination since scout is starting to recognize landmarks; he's sad to cut the conversation short, but he has to get a move on or else he's gonna miss his opportunity.

"point taken. guess it ain't too strange. a buncha weirdos, you lot, but i love ya all the same anyways," sniper chuckles, parking the van and unbuckling his seatbelt. "well, i wish ya the best of luck, ya loon-lovin' gremlin. godspeed."

scout opens the passenger door and books it inside, waving a quick goodbye to sniper that he probably couldn't even catch a glimpse of. _that boy has no clue what he's getting into,_ sniper thinks, removing his shades to scratch at his sideburn. _godspeed indeed._

* * *

_okay._

_this is your opportunity._

_do not ruin your chances._

there medic stands, amidst a sea of impatient tweens and exhausted parents, at a new higher-end sports shop that recently opened up a short drive away from where he and his colleagues were currently stationed. it's packed, obviously; he is distinctly out of place in the oppressively bright, humid store full of kids and athletes alike, horrid pop music blasting way too loudly through the newly installed overhead speakers. he's perusing a rack full of aluminum baseball bats, plastered in brand logos and shiny to the point of being borderline painful to look at. he loathes the atmosphere of the dreadful place, and the fact it's so crowded makes it even worse, but sometimes you must make sacrifices in the name of science; well, brain science, to put it more aptly.

he's going to tell scout how he feels about him.

after much deliberation and sleepless nights, he's finally ready to admit his attraction and hope for the best. he's not one to give up easily; persistence is one of his favorite traits about himself, conceited as that may sound. he's done playing childish games and feeling the peculiar anomaly of psychology known as "shame". he's a man of progress and triumph, not pussyfooting around his repressed emotions like a cherry-faced teenager. if things don't work out, it certainly won't be too much of an obstacle to him; scout doesn't have the greatest memory, and he would probably forget such an incident ever occurred in two week's time or less. and if he doesn't, it's no trouble, either. brain scooping is a fine art he is well versed in, of course. if it worked on demoman, it will work on scout.

heavy browses with him, arms folded, stoic and silent as per usual. he had agreed to drive medic here and help him out with what he was told was an 'important scientific endeavor.' he was skeptical, of course, but he was never one to turn away a friend if they needed his assistance with something; medic had more than done his fair share of favors for him, so he figured it would be better to indulge him even if he was being purposefully vague. this, however, is definitely not what he had expected. the good doctor is definitely a loose cannon, but an expensive athletics shop was the last place he assumed he'd want to be, nonetheless stomach enough to buy something. how can you use sports equipment in a science experiment, anyway? something is definitely amiss, yet heavy remains quiet as to not incur medic's trademark wrath. you do not want to be on the man's bad side since he has a memory like an elephant and the ability to put you under a scalpel at any particular moment.

he looks to medic, who had squeezed past a whining teenager begging his mother for a new catcher's mitt to reach a rack full of sports-themed jewelry. something catches his eye; the twinkle of a pair of dog tags at the same shelf medic was perusing. suddenly, everything clicks in heavy's mind, making mental note to ask him what's going on when they're in the car later and the good doctor can't weasel his way out of conversation so easily. medic rifles through the pile of necklaces, accidentally shoving someone aside in the process yet too enamored with his current task to apologize. heavy opts to do it for him, praying he'd just hurry up and find what he was looking for already.

after much, much digging (heavy's watch has never seen so much use) he pulls out a chain sporting a small enamel tag branded with a baseball and two crossed bats behind it, smiling widely at his spoils. _subtle,_ heavy thinks, rolling his eyes and guiding medic to the packed checkout line. he supposes making some comments at the moment won't cause too much of a scene. it's too tempting to not say something right now despite heavy not historically being a man of many words.

"you know," he whispers, drowned out by the chattering ambiance of the bustling store, "you are not subtle."

medic turns to face him. "what?" he says frankly. "this is purely for research purposes, i assure you." the line moves along at a surprisingly brisk pace, heavy gently pushing medic forwards as to not hold up the line with his aimless ogling at trinkets and gizmos lining the many polished, silver shelves.

"yes, _research,_" heavy mumbles under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

soon enough, the line dissipates and they've reached the cash register after what seemed like an eternity. the teenage girl working the counter greets them with a manufactured smile, ringing up their one singular item and giving them a total. medic pays for his not-so-subtle gift after fumbling with his old leather wallet, his taller companion trying his best to mask the look of absolute impatience resting upon his strong features right now. once everything is done and paid for, they make their leave, the setting sun looking down on the crowded parking lot and bathing it in warm summer hues. the two mercenaries begin their trek to the inconspicuous bread truck they drove here, very noticeable amongst the typical automobile fare littering the area.

heavy is done holding his tongue now that they've been freed from the confines of the wretched little athletics shop, turning to face medic as they walk. "doktor," he starts, "what is going on? why are you buying present for scout?" he can see medic visibly grimace at the confrontational nature of his question, shoulders hiking upward in an instant.

"it is _not_ a present for him," medic lies through his teeth, feeling heavy's icy blue eyes drill a hole right through him. "okay, _maybe_ it is a present for him. but it is simply an act of good will, ja? you know he has been very helpful around the lab as of late."

they reach the truck, opting to continue the conversation inside. heavy opens the passenger door for medic like a true gentleman despite his disgruntlement with his behavior currently and follows suit by slumping down in the driver's seat. the truck starts with a sputtering groan, an awkward silence between them as they venture out onto the open road.

"something is wrong," heavy states simply, slicing through the silence thick in the air with his words. "doktor is in love with scout, da?"

medic freezes.

"well, err, not _quite-_"

heavy sighs loudly. "look. you either tell me truth right now, or i say it for you." he grips the steering wheel tighter. "i know you, doktor. is easy to tell when you lie."

"but-"

"doktor." heavy says. "you like men. is not hard to see. everyone know already."

medic's jaw just about hits the floor; he's not typically one to be embarrassed or shocked, and heavy is definitely the type to be forward about his concerns or issues with you, but this is something else. "i...i assure you, you misunderstand, i simply admire the _male physique-_"

"_DOKTOR,_" heavy interrupts. "is okay. you can just say it."

"i _am_ in love with scout, _alright??_ is that enough for you, _dummkopf??_" medic relents, frustrated but not surprised at heavy's assertions. he was right; it really wasn't hard to tell. if you looked up 'flaming' in the dictionary, his photo would probably be directly next to it. "he...he _appreciates_ me. he does not think i am a senile danger to society! i usually despise being around other people with the sole exception being you, since you have the patience of a saint," he starts, staring out the window at the sunset painted landscape as it rolls by. "he takes the time to talk to me, assist me around the lab, my birds _adore_ him for gott's sake! it does not help that he tastes like cherry cola-"

"he _what?_" heavy interjects again, eyes so wide they run the risk of popping out of his skull.

"his _MOUTH,_ schweinhund," medic clarifies. "ugh, _heavens,_ no. get your mind out of the gutter, mein freund." he twiddles his thumbs, the gaudy plastic bag of the sports store sitting idly on his lap.

heavy is silent for a moment before speaking again. "...so you have kissed him before, then. what is problem? is that not sign enough?"

"well, we were...intoxicated," he explains. "he does not remember a thing past friendly banter. i recall it as if it were yesterday."

"ah, i see." heavy's tone has softened, reflecting more concern than frustration at this point. the road ahead is empty and winding, familiar setpieces coming into view reminding them both that their destination is near. "i remember first time i kiss boy in my youth. never forget it. the gift you get for him is very sweet. i know he will love it," he smiles, pulling up to the base and putting the truck in park. "you miss all shots you do not take. i wish you best of luck, doktor."

medic's stress evaporates at the kind words from his friend. "thank you, heavy," he says warmly, unbuckling his seatbelt and exiting the vehicle. "i am going to need it." there was no time to dawdle or dillydally; he had somewhere to be, and he was not about to be late.

* * *

_aww crap, aww crap, aww crap,_ scout thinks, fixing his unkempt hair in a hurry. his reflection in the bedroom mirror he so often ignored was half-disheveled, half-presentable; from the waist up, he looked fine, sporting his nice hand-me-down jacket as well as a decorative handkerchief he borrowed from pyro ages ago and never gave back. he's attempting to slick his hair up into a faux-pompadour to appear suave and charming when he confronts medic, a move he had planned out days ago; only now he's seeing the cracks in that decision, with stray strands of hair refusing to stay in place.

he's got nothing but his tightie whities on at the moment below the waist, ankle socks notwithstanding. his favorite pair of slacks are in the wash, so he's going to have to make do with whatever pants reside within his messy, messy wardrobe. he deliberates on it for a moment, deciding his hairdo is good enough before fishing out a pair of old skinny jeans he hadn't worn in a good couple years from his dresser in a rush, pulling them on almost as quickly as the black boots that came with them. _good enough,_ he thinks, grabbing the plastic bag laying idly on his bed and whipping open his bedroom door to head to the balcony.

* * *

_ach, nein, this won't do,_ medic worries, fiddling with his spectacles as he stares at the reflection of himself in the infirmary mirror. his doves watch inquisitively from a distance, sometimes fluttering down to rest atop his meticulously coordinated outfit laying idly on a gurney only to be shooed away in an instant. he's in the process of trying to remove the ever-present spit curl from his forehead, worried that it will make his exchange with scout too informal.

ultimately he gives up on the fruitless endeavor, reaching over to don his carefully chosen dress shirt and sweater vest; he struggles to get the garment over his bare chest in a rush, stumbling around and bumping into medical equipment in his wake. finally he gets it on proper, nearly slipping as his socked feet wobble against the smooth tile of the infirmary floor. he pulls his trousers up and buttons them, favorite leather belt adorning its loops as soon as he can manage it. he then slips into his black dress shoes he saves for special occasions only, archimedes poking curiously at the discarded plastic bag resting atop a metal tray. _this will have to do,_ he muses, swatting the pesky bird away and grabbing the bag as he makes his exit, intent on going straight to the balcony.

* * *

two mercenaries stand atop the familiar wooden balcony, gifts in hand, a deafening silence between them as the moonlight illuminates each one in a way that can only be described as ethereal.

"hey," scout's voice rings out into the quiet night, his smile earnest, overbite on full display with his goofy, wide grin.

"hello," medic replies, accent thick and quiet, his face free of apathy or mania, genuine joy spread across his features.

they both have noticed the other man's bag by now, at a loss for words as to what to say. what can they say; they really are on the same wavelength when it comes to this kind of thing, apparently.

scout chuckles, half out of disbelief and half out of pure happiness. "got somethin' for ya," he says, "but i guess you had the same idea too, huh, doc?"

medic laughs too, a real laugh, soft and gentle. "i suppose so," he whispers. "come here, i've got something for you as well."

scout does as he's told, approaching medic slowly yet surely, each mercenary discarding the plastic bags containing their presents. scout hands medic the ornate bird carving, his eyes widening and fingers wandering at the sheer sight of it. it's clear from his facial expression that he adores it; he feels each and every ridge and bump of the woodwork, not speaking a word and not even needing to. his eyes say it all, sparks of blue welling up at their corners and expressing everything silently. he looks back up at scout, gently placing the meaningful gift atop a crate as he reaches for his own present. the chain and tag of the necklace shine in the light of the moon, medic walking ever closer to drape it around scout with the utmost care, fingers deft and delicate as he clasps it comfortably around his neck. scout is visibly ecstatic at the gesture, grasping the enamel tag of the necklace to inspect it with childlike glee. medic doesn't move. he remains close, almost uncomfortably so if they were both cognizant enough of the fact that the rest of the world is still turning. right now, in this moment, it's just the both of them and the moon above, the studio light shining on the stage that was the balcony.

"do i even need to say it?" scout asks, dopey smile still plastered across his face. "you're gonna make me say it, ain't ya?"

medic gets even closer, looming over him and pressing their foreheads together unconsciously, letting his instincts take over. "nein, i do not believe you do," he responds, using one hand to grasp scout's flushed cheek beneath his palm, the other pushing against the small of the his back to inch him ever closer. scout wraps his lanky arms around medic's shoulders and leans in, the other man following suit as their lips meet again, this time fully sober and genuine, everything else melting away as pent up emotion is suddenly released in an instant. it's still inexperienced and sloppy, but neither of them care; the close intimate contact feels incredible, black coffee and german beer feeling oh-so-familiar on scout's lips for a reason he can't parse at the moment. medic is drunk on the taste of him again; he makes a mental note to research the possibility of secondhand soda addiction existing later.

they pull away, slowly, carefully. there's a personable silence as owls hoot and crickets chirp in an orchestra of natural ambiance, enhancing the scene before them right now. scout laughs, nervous, happy, surprised. medic opts to join him, their snickering echoing into the inky blue of the summer night.

"ich liebe dich, jeremy," medic says, finally, the words rolling off of his tongue like he was born to say them. the tongue is foreign, but scout gets the memo; his hands meet with medic's, fingers interlocking and staying put, reluctant to let go.

"i love me too, doc," scout quips, his eyes and smile telling a different story. "i'm just kiddin'. i love you, ludwig," he says, looking up at his beloved doctor as if he were a sight for the sorest of eyes.

it feels good; unspoken words finally uttered, a fitting bow to wrap up the two-week long furlough and start a new chapter in their lives. well, possibly. they've still got work in the morning; but that doesn't really matter much in the here and now.

"oh, shit," scout says. "i spent all this time gettin' your stuff ready that i forgot to eat dinner." he's hesitant to remove his fingers from medic's, but he does so to nervously scratch his arm. "you up for a late night snack, doc?"

medic thinks on it for a moment. "now that you mention it, i neglected to eat as well in favor of grabbing that necklace for you," he muses. "i do not think there is much left in the base, though. we burned through all our groceries when soldier and demo attempted to bake cookies. those two have no impulse control."

"that's sorta rich, comin' from you," scout scoffs. "really though, it's no big deal, prolly. there's gotta be places open late, right? we ain't livin' in caveman times here. grab your keys, we'll just eat out."

medic snickers, mania seeping back into his voice as his glasses gleam in the moonlight. "oh, i am _definitely_ eating out tonight, don't you fret," he laughs, scout attempting to tug him inside by the sleeve.

"alright, you nasty old pervert, get in here before i change my mind," scout giggles, leading him into the darkness of the base hallway with about as much grace as a lovesick pretty boy can muster.

one thing was for certain; neither of them would be sleeping alone again anytime soon, and isolation was no longer their safe haven; instead, it was with one another. it was certainly an adjustment, but one they would no doubt get used to with time.

for once in his life, scout had stepped up to the plate; and he sent that ball flying all the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAND IT IS COMPLETE! didn't want this to go on forever and figured this would be a good spot to end it. thank you so much for reading and let me know any feedback or comments youve got if you feel like it ! <3


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